


Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot

by Notmarysue



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, New Year's Eve, New Year's Resolutions, New Years, No beta we die like owen, Post-Canon, Tati is ultimate therapist friend, implied/referenced suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28452954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notmarysue/pseuds/Notmarysue
Summary: As 1961 draws to a close, Curt and Tatiana take a moment to reflect on all their fears for the new year.
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega (Mentioned)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 10





	Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot

**Author's Note:**

> Last fic of 2020, folks. I thought it was only appropriate to celebrate with the fandom that brought me so much joy this year (joy and delicious angst).
> 
> Title taken from the poem Auld Lang Syne by Robert Burns.

The winter months were always the hardest for Curt. Something about the cold, dark nights, the kind that begged to be shared with another, reminded him just how lonely he’d become over the years. While the icy months before spring dragged endless, they’d never been his main problem. It was easy enough to treat them like business as usual. The holiday season was real challenge. Owen had never been close to his family the way Curt was. He’d always found the endless swarms of aunts and uncles and cousins overwhelming. So instead, the couple had often found themselves spending the last months of the year together. Christmas day in a warm home, his mother welcoming his ‘friend’ to the table with little thought. News Years Eve in a bustling bar, ushering in the new year with the crowd and starting it off right with each other. These had been the things that made winter special. Now, no matter who he was with, December was empty. And so, year after year, no matter how hard he tried, he found himself back at those same bars. The happy crowds still surrounded him, but he was utterly alone.

Curt sat atop a worn leather barstool in one of the less crowded bars. Others danced as the last few minutes of 1961 ticked away, but he struggled to find the energy. Instead, he found himself swirling his glass of whiskey and watching the residue mark the sides. He tried to take it slow, reminding himself that though he had sorrows to drown, he also had ambitions to keep afloat, and he couldn’t afford to let himself get sloppy. Still, he could allow himself a ‘responsible pour’. Just a little to take the edge off. Besides, there was no fun in going into 1962 sober.

“Is this seat taken?” Curt nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of someone speaking behind him. Stupid man. He should never be taken off guard like that. He turned to see Tatiana’s smiling face. She was dressed formally for the occasion, with a red dress and pinned back hair. Curt couldn’t think of a single time she didn’t look on point. There was something different about her though. Even in the dark he could see it. It was her eyes, they were so much more alive now, not filled with the same anger and worry that he’d seen in her when they’d first met.

“Tati, what are you doing here?” Curt smiled. Even in the darkest moments Tatiana’s presence lifted his spirits. Strange, perhaps, for a woman who once attacked and betrayed him to have such an affect, but spies didn’t have the luxury of choosing where they made their friends.

“I have work here.”

“Is it work I’m allowed to ask about?”

“No, but you told me to call you if I was ever state side and there was no way I could miss seeing you before the year ended. I would have actually called to plan ahead but you never actually gave me your number.”

“Yeah, when I said ‘call me’ it was kind of a figure of speech. I don’t actually have a phone in my apartment. I think they’re dangerous.” Curt explained.

“Of course, caution is always important in our line of business. You never know who might be listening.” Tatiana nodded.

“On the contrary. I know _exactly_ who might be listening.” Curt retorted as he took a long sip of his drink. He always tried to avoid any talk of his work on nights like these. It only weighed on his mind and served to bring his mood down. If he was honest with himself, he was surprised he was still granted such peaceful down time. At first, he’d presumed Chimera would be more of a problem. After all, he’d helped destroy one of their facilities, personally killed one of their operatives, and sworn to make them his enemy. It was the type of stuff that normally got a man hunted down. Yet they barely seemed notice him, only engaging when he struck first, on the rare occasions he could find them at all. Perhaps Owen hadn’t been as important to their efforts as he made out. Perhaps he had been as much of a pawn to Chimera as he had been to the government and his second death had ultimately meant as much as the first. As for everything else, he really wasn’t that much of a threat. Barb had been the real brains behind the facility’s destruction, and she had her own work to be dealing with. Alone, a man like Curt had no chance of taking down such an intricate web of an organisation. All the same, he avoided the things that they might use to endanger his physical health in daily life and avoided the things that they could use to endanger his mental health in conversation. It was easier that way.

“So…the seat?” Tatiana asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Oh right, of course, sit down.” He replied, ushering her over.

“Thank you.” She slid herself onto the stool and caught the bartender’s attention. She had a particular gift for being seen at the exact moment she needed to be and disappearing with the same ease. It was a skill any spy would be envious of, though Curt supposed she got a head start with training. She ordered a martini and placed it down in front of her before turning her attention back to Curt.

“You know this bar is a lot nicer than the one where we last drank together.” She smiled.

“You liked that bar. We had a good time.”

“Yes, but bars are always a lot nicer when you don’t associate them with almost dying. Or with people who did die.” She pointed out.

“I suppose so.” Curt sighed, taking another sip in silent honour. “I never knew his name, you know?”

“Who? The Informant?” Tatiana asked, raising her eyebrow doubtfully.

“Yeah, I mean whenever we worked together he was undercover so…the names were always fake. I never even thought to ask for the real one. Five years we worked together and I didn’t even know the poor guy’s name.”

“I think he would like that. It means he’s still undercover, even now.” Tatiana said softly.

“That’s a nice way of looking at it.”

“What can I say?” She shrugged. “I suppose I’m, how you say…optimistic. Pessimism is such a tiring outlook to maintain.”

“Indeed.” Curt laughed. “How you find me anyway?”

“Ah Curt, you forget the ways of a good spy. I always have eyes on you. My top agent feedback your every move.” She grinned.

“They do?” Curt whipped around, scanning the room for possible stalkers and cursing himself for being so unobservant.

“Well, maybe not your every move. She doesn’t have that much time on her hands.” Tatiana corrected. Curt scowled at her, confused. He hated being confused. “I mean Barb, Curt.” She laughed. “I asked her to keep an eye you, just in case you…well…”

“I what? Broke again?” He smirked.

“She knows your habits like the back of her hand. There were really only three bars you could have been at it.”

“And why did you presume I’d be at a bar?”

“It’s new years eve, Curt. You weren’t going to spend it alone and you certainly weren’t going to spend it with your mother.”

“Damn, you’re too good.” He muttered.

“Well, my senses have been sharpened this year. It was, how you say, eventful. Let’s hope 1962 is a little quieter.”

“Are you kidding? 1962 is going to be my most eventful year yet. I’ve got big plans, Tatiana, big plans. I mean I can’t discuss them here but the things I’m planning they’re…urr…”

“Big?”

“Exactly.”

“Still trying to ‘save the world’ then?” She grumbled, unable to fight back an eyeroll.

“Yes, why shouldn’t I?” Curt snapped. He noticed his voice raising and quickly calmed himself. He wouldn’t go into January fighting one of his best friends.

“Curt, you may be naïve, but you’re not stupid.”

“Are you sure?” He huffed.

“I know you don’t really think you can stop change in its tracks. It’s like trying to push back time or halt the tides. It’s just not possible. Even Cynthia Houston knows that and she’s as stubborn as it gets.”

“Jeez, is there anyone you’re not talking to?” He mumbled. “I know it isn’t possible.”

“Then why are you still trying?”

Curt fell silent. Was this how his ‘peaceful night’ was going to end? Backed into a corner in a conversation he didn’t want to have. He already asked himself these questions every day. He didn’t need Tatiana doing it too. At least when he questioned himself, he didn’t have to provide answers.

“I have a tradition on a New Year’s Eve.” Said Tatiana.

“Interrogating your friends?”

“No…well maybe, but that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

“Go on.” Curt sighed.

“Every year since I was around 13, I would explain my fears about the upcoming year. All my worries. Sometimes I would do this with a friend or a confidante, more often I’d do it by myself. By letting them out into the open, they weren’t suffocating me anymore, and facing the new year was a lot easier.”

“And that meant you weren’t…afraid anymore?”

“Of course not. It just reminded me that I didn’t need to let my fears destroy me, that they were better off faced than hidden.”

“…Could you…show me how you do that?” Curt asked quietly.

“Alright…” Tatiana nodded. She searched her brain for something to say. With jobs like theirs’, with the kind of information they were privy to, there was plenty to be afraid of. It was just little of it could be shared in public. “Well…I’m worried that Barb will overwork herself and wear herself out.”

“Valid.” Curt agreed.

“I’m worried about my family, that we won’t be able to heal all the years we lost.”

“Also valid.” Curt nodded. He didn’t know much about Tatiana’s family or about the dynamics of large families in general. It had always been just him and his mother and they’d never been out of contact for much longer than two months. Even then, it had been a pain. As irritating as she could be, Curt couldn’t imagine being separated from her for years on end.

“I’m worried about you, that you’ll get yourself hurt or…drive yourself crazy setting standards that nobody can reach.”

“Tati-“

“Am I wrong? I’ve known you barely a year and in that time you’ve been near death twice, all to be the hero.”

“It’s not like the cause isn’t worthy.” Curt snapped. “It might be a little unachievable but maybe with time-“

“Worthy and practical aren’t the same thing.” Tatiana interjected. “You can’t go getting yourself killed over some noble pipe dream.”

“Well, you’ve got to die for something, right?” He mumbled.

“It’s your turn. I share, you share.” She prompted.

“I’m…worried that you’re right. I’m worried because I _know_ you’re right. I do all this work, take all these risks, I know it’s for nothing, but… Owen said something to me, while we were alone.”

“Owen said a lot of things, Curt.” Tatiana said quietly.

“I know, and not all of it made a lot of sense, but there was this one thing. One thing that really stuck with me. ‘Typical Curt, pretending to be a hero again’. _Pretending._ Like everything I’d ever done never _actually_ helped anyone. And it stung because…what if he was right? What if I’ve caused more pain than I’ve fixed? I can’t stop Chimera, I know that, but maybe if I can slow them down just a little bit, then I’ve made a difference. A _good_ difference.”

The pair went quiet as Tatiana soaked in the words. Curt didn’t rush her. Trying to decipher what went on in her head was a fruitless task, one that even he wouldn’t attempt.

“Look at these people.” Tatiana finally replied, turning her head to the gleeful swarms of civilians. “They don’t know a thing about half of the stuff that happens in this world.”

“Good. I think they’d be permanent riots if they did.” Curt smiled sadly.

“Such simple lives.”

“Yes.”

“But they’re all important. Every one of them has more connections that we’ll likely ever know.”

“…Where are you going with this, Tatiana?” Asked Curt.

“None of these people are ever going to save the world. Barely any of them are going to save a single life. Still, they all make a difference in this world. Little kind deeds, making each other smile, their own tiny impacts that make the world worth saving to begin with.” She explained.

“Maybe.”

“Definitely. And what about you? Think about all the differences you make just by existing. You motivate Barb, you helped me find people who care about me. I’m pretty sure your mum would go crazy without you.”

“Isn’t she crazy already?” Curt laughed.

“Perhaps.” Tatiana smiled. “The point is that you don’t have to be a hero to make a difference. You’re already making a difference, just by being you.”

“You know for a supposedly isolated person you sure have a lot of sage advice.” He grinned.

“What can I say?” She shrugged. “It’s a gift.”

The countdown began. Just ten seconds were left before 1961, and all that it had brought them, was history.

“Make me a promise, Curt. This year you’re going to live for something, rather than die for something.”

“I promise.” He agreed. They raised their glasses high, toasted as the final second passed. “Happy new year, Tatiana. May the future be kinder than the past.”


End file.
